Who'd He Rather?
by allthingsdecent
Summary: Amber and Thirteen make a bet over who House really has the hots for: Cameron or Cuddy?
1. Chapter 1

**What up, Huddy Nation? Long time no hang. I've been in a Hugh Laurie mood lately (it's a Veep/Night Manager thing), which has put me in a Huddy mood lately, which has led to this fic—my first in two years! (What?!). A word of warning: I'm VERY rusty. Like, I haven't been watching the show at all, so the voices aren't as perfectly clear in my head, plus I've forgotten random shit I used to know (like how old Cuddy is supposed to be), plus I'm just not as invested in the characters as I once was, which I guess is inevitable, I guess. Also, if you're expecting something intense and momentous, this will let you down. It's light-hearted. Finally, I don't think means I'm going to become a fic maniac again, but yeah, I guess you'll be seeing a little more of me around here again. (Especially since this is the first of a two-part fic!) – atd**

It was a nice day outside so Amber and Thirteen decided to remove themselves from the stress of competing against 25 other people for three fellowships and eat lunch in the park.

After a few minutes of idle small talk, Thirteen got a distinct gleam in her eyes.

"So what do you think of House?" she asked, provocatively.

Amber swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and gave a half shrug.

"He's everything as advertised, I guess," she said. "Terrifying, brilliant, exhilarating, terrifying, funny, a total dick. And did I mention terrifying?"

Thirteen grinned.

"Yeah, but do you think he's hot?"

Amber hesitated. This suddenly felt like a trap.

"Do _you_?" she said, pointedly.

Thirteen laughed.

"Totally. Like a young Clint Eastwood, gone to seed."

Amber looked down.

"I guess he's…pretty handsome," she said. "He has beautiful eyes."

Thirteen ate a forkful of salad, although she suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation than her food.

"So we both agree he's fuckable. The question is, who is he fucking?"

"What makes you so sure he's…fucking anyone?"

"I mean, he's a dude. He's got needs. And the world is filled with dumb women who think they have the magical power to tame the savage beast."

Amber considered that for a second.

"I've noticed him looking a lot at Dr. Cameron."

Thirteen snorted.

"I've noticed him looking a lot at Dr. _Cuddy_."

Now it was Amber's turn to laugh.

"What? He can't stand her."

"You are so naïve. He's totally hot for her. All those hate-sparks between them? It's called chemistry, my friend."

"He looks at Dr. Cameron with more…tenderness," Amber said.

"Tenderness is for teen romance novels," Thirteen said. "House is a grown man. I guarantee you it's Dr. Cuddy he wants. Assuming they're not doing it already."

"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Amber said, skeptically.

"Medical conditions aren't the only thing I'm good at diagnosing," Thirteen said.

They were friends, kind of (although it was more a friendship of convenience than anything else), but competitors more—and suddenly this felt a bit like a challenge.

"And I say he likes Dr. Cameron," Amber said, stubbornly.

"Wanna bet?" Thirteen said, leaning forward.

"Bet?" Amber said, intrigued. "Like, what kind of bet?"

"I prove that he has the hots for Cuddy or you prove that he has the hots for Cameron."

"And how exactly do we prove this?"

"I don't know. That's part of the fun. We can try getting him drunk. Liquid truth serum."

Amber squinted at her.

"Okay, what are the terms of the bet?"

"Loser drops out of contention for the fellowship," Thirteen said.

"Fuck that," Amber said.

"Less confident all of a sudden, huh?" Thirteen said, her eyes still dancing.

"No, but I'm also not dumb enough to bet my livelihood on something as unpredictable as our pill-popping boss's love life."

"If you can't read House, you won't get the job anyway," Thirteen said. "And besides, you know he's not picking two pretty young women for his team. It would be a bad look. You'd be getting rid of your most direct competitor."

Amber considered it. Thirteen was right. The odds of both of them making the team were remote at best. And she was 90-percent sure she was right about House. Dark, cynical guys like him always went for the nice girls. Plus, she really wanted to wipe the cocky look off Thirteen face.

"Proof has to be definitive," she said. "Not circumstantial."

"Of course," Thirteen said.

"Then okay, it's a bet."

######

Their plan was to get a little tipsy—just tipsy enough so they could credibly pretend to be more drunk than they really were—and walk past his office after hours.

"No man can resist two drunk girls and an open flask," Thirteen said, confidently.

And damned if it didn't work.

House came to the door of his office as they went giggling by.

"You guys read the sign on the door, right?" he said. "It says Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Not Prince Plainsboro Sorority."

They giggled some more.

"Sorry," Thirteen said. Then she put her finger to lips, Elmer Fudd style and said, "We'll be vewy, vewy quiet."

House crossed his arms, smirked at them.

"You're drunk," he said, amused.

"Not drunk," Amber said. "Tipsy. And you can't blame us for blowing off some steam."

"You see, we're undergoing the world's most intense job interview," Thirteen agreed.

"There are these things called bars…"

"Why go to a bar when we have our own flask?" Thirteen said, holding up the bottle. "Want some?"

House peered at them—both pretty, both drunk, standing in front of his office with an open flask of alcohol at 10 pm. Something told him this was a bad idea.

"Why don't you come in, ladies?" he said. (Avoiding bad ideas had never been his forte.)

"You better catch up," Thirteen said, thrusting the flask into his chest. He laughed, shrugged, and took two healthy swigs. Then he led them into the DDx room. He hopped up on the table and they both took chairs.

"So how are you girls enjoying the game of Survivor: Diagnostics so far?" he said, already loving this.

"Thrill a minute," Thirteen said, taking a swig herself.

"It's like Gladiator," Amber said, taking a sip. (Amber noticed that Thirteen hadn't wiped off the mouth of the flask before taking a swig so she didn't either.) "Except with more bloodlust."

"But you girls secretly hate each other, right?" House said, peering at them knowingly. "You've done the math. You're each other's prime competition."

"Thought hadn't crossed my mind," Thirteen said, breezily.

House shot her a skeptical look.

"We're kind of stuck with each other," Amber noted. "Who are we going to hang out with: Father Time? Big Love? The Pyromaniac?"

"And the short guy keeps telling me how much hotter I'd be if I got my boobs done," Thirteen snorted.

"He's not wrong" House said, leering at her a bit, taking another swig.

"So tell us more about what you're looking for in a fellow," Thirteen said.

"Other than big boobs," Amber cracked.

"Like, tell us what you liked about Dr. Cameron," Thirteen said.

Amber side-eyed her. She was so confident in House's feelings for Dr. Cuddy she was bringing up Amber's choice first.

House frowned a bit.

"She was a good doctor," he said.

"There are lots of good doctors," Thirteen said. "Did the fact that she was pretty help?"

She handed him back the flask. It was nearly empty.

He finished it, in one swig.

"It never hurts," he said, slamming the empty flask on the table. Thirteen smiled, reached into her purse and pulled out a second flask. "The night is young," she said with a shrug.

House arched an eyebrow, impressed, commandeered the flask and took another healthy swallow. He was fully drunk now.

"What else?" Thirteen said.

"What else what?"

"What else did you like about Cameron?"

"Cameron was the yin to my yang. The Desdemona to my Iago. The beauty to my beast. She completed me."

Amber gave a tiny, barely detectable smile of triumph.

"So were you two ever…an item?" she asked.

House nearly choked on the whiskey.

"Absolutely not," he said. "I meant that she completed me, diagnostically. I see symptoms. She sees feelings. She's wrong 95 percent of the time. But 5 percent of the time, she actually came in handy."

Now it was Thirteen's turn to smile.

"But if you _had_ slept with her, would you tell us?" Amber said, leadingly.

"Of course not," House said.

Amber nodded, moderately satisfied.

"Well, what about Dr. Cuddy?" Thirteen said, ignoring the fact that Amber was still technically in the game.

"Why are you only interested in the women I work with?" House said. "Don't you want to know how Foreman completes me?"

"No," Amber and Thirteen said, in unison.

House folded his arms and got a slightly dirty look on his face.

"Okay, what do you want to know about Dr. Cuddy?"

"What's it like working for a woman?" Thirteen asked.

"Same as working for a man. If said man got extremely emotional once a month and had an ass as big as Texas."

"You're a pig," Thirteen said, laughing.

"I'm a dude. That goes without saying. But if you two were smart you'd watch Dr. Cuddy closely. She runs the entire hospital and takes no shit from anyone, including me."

"So you admire her?" Amber said.

"The only person in this hospital I admire is myself," he lied.

"And yet, when you and Dr. Cuddy talk, even in a crowded room, it's like you're the only two people in the world," Thirteen said.

House rolled his eyes.

"What is this? House and Cuddy fan fiction?"

"It's not fiction if it's true," Thirteen countered. "I've never seen such chemistry."

House gave her a knowing once-over.

"I never took you for a romantic, Thirteen."

"I never took you for a liar, Dr. House," she responded.

They contemplated each other.

"Dr. Cuddy is a very formidable woman," he admitted.

"Aha!" Thirteen said. " _And_ you think she's pretty." It was less a question than a statement of fact.

House looked around his office with mock suspiciousness.

"Why do I suddenly feel like you guys are narcs for Human Resources?" House said.

"We're not, I assure you," Thirteen said. "Just fishing for insight."

House started to think about Cuddy, despite himself.

"Dr. Cuddy isn't pretty…" he started, as Amber gave a smug smile. "She's…a fucking knockout." (Amber's face fell.)

He suddenly realized he'd said too much. He hopped off the table. "And thus ends tonight's session of This is Your Life, Gregory House."

Then he grabbed the flask from Thirteen's hand.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate this. No drinking at the hospital."  
######

Afterwards, Thirteen and Amber compared notes. They both agreed that the results were inconclusive. He had gotten poetic when describing Cameron—"Desdemona to my Iago"—but had pretty quickly shut down any talk of romance. Meanwhile, he praised Dr. Cuddy, then deflected, then admitted she was a "fucking knockout."

"And formidable," Thirteen added, helpfully.

"I'd say it's a tie," Amber said.

"What part of fucking knockout don't you understand?" Thirteen said.

"What part of she completes me don't you?"

They both laughed in a touché sort of way.

"Okay," Thirteen said. "Round one results: A draw. But the games have just begun."

"What do you propose?"

"You do your intel, I'll do mine. Then we'll reconvene and see if anyone comes away with definitive proof."

Amber gave a quick nod. Then she said, "We should get drunk with House more often. He was actually…less mean."

"Hey, he didn't steal _your_ flask," Thirteen said.

######

In bed that night—that is, once the room stopped spinning—House had a vague sense that he'd messed up. Not just fraternizing with two potential employees after hours—hell, he usually committed worse HR violations before lunchtime. But that he'd revealed too much about his feelings. Particularly his feelings for a certain Dean of Medicine.

"It's like you're the only two people in the world," Thirteen had said. That had flattered him somehow, excited him. He found himself thinking of Cuddy, the way she stood in the doorway of the lecture room, her eyes flashing as she scolded him. He imagined standing up, passing the fellow candidates without looking at them, focused only on her, as though they were the only two people in the world, reaching for her, kissing her, undressing her. . .

His hand went down his boxers. The irony of the fact that he had just spent the evening getting drunk with two beautiful twenty-somethings but was about to jerk off to the image of his 37-year-old boss did not escape him.


	2. Chapter 2

**I just realized the semi-fatal flaw of this story. It doesn't have enough Cuddy! Of course, she's in the this chapter way more than the first one, but it's still clearly insufficient. (Why is that SNL skit, "Needs more cowbell" running through my head?). Anyway, when I write another one of these (did I say when? I meant if,** _ **IF**_ **!), I'll be sure to make it more Cuddy focused. Meanwhile, hope you enjoy part 2. And thanks for showing me all the "welcome back" love. Your encouragement is very, well, encouraging. xo**

"Thirteen, a moment of your time."

All eyes turned to Thirteen, who had just been summoned to stay after class, as it were, by House.

This could either be an exceptionally bad thing (she was fired!) or a cause for some jealousy (why was _she_ getting singled out?) Amber, for her part, was fuming over the fact that it was Thirteen who was being asked to stay behind and not her. Surely this was about last night, right? And surely he remembered that she had been there, too—or hadn't he noticed? Goddamn Thirteen and her goddamn porcelain skin, 2-percent body fat, and bird-like bone structure. Annoyed, Amber followed the rest of the fellow candidates out of the lecture hall.

House, who had come into the lecture hall wearing dark glasses that he'd only reluctantly removed and who looked even more disheveled than usual, stared at Thirteen with some astonishment.

"Why don't you look as bad as I feel?" he said.

"I guess I just hold my alcohol better than you do," Thirteen replied. This was a lie, of course. After a certain point, right around the time the second flask was brandished, she and Amber had stopped drinking completely (by then, House was too far gone to even notice).

He looked up at her. "I somehow doubt that," he said, blinking at the light. Then he groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Peter Cooper Hewitt was a sadist," he said.

"Who?"

"The asshole who invented the fluorescent light bulb," House replied.

"And yet somehow I think you didn't summon me here to discuss light bulbs," Thirteen said.

"No," House said. "It's about last night."

"Good times," Thirteen said, with a cocky grin.

"Good, and highly inappropriate times," House countered.

"What happens after hours in the DDx room stays in the DDx room," Thirteen said.

"Your self-preservation instincts are excellent," House said. Then he hesitated. "It's particularly important that Dr. Cuddy knows nothing of what we did—or, uh, said."

"What? You mean the part about where you said she was a fucking knockout?" Thirteen said, mirthfully.

"Maybe your self-preservation instincts aren't quite as sound as I thought," House growled.

"Just kidding. I would never tell her." Then, marveling over the fact that House had given her such a perfect opening, she decided to enact Stage B of her Get House To Admit He Has Feelings for Dr. Cuddy plan. "Especially in light of recent rumors."

He took the bait.

"What rumors?"

"That Dr. Cuddy is…seeing someone. A doctor at Princeton General."

"Bullshit," House said.

Thirteen gave a broad, "don't blame the messenger" shrug. "That's just what I hear," she said. (In fact, there _were_ rumors of the sort going around the hospital—but only because she had planted them.)

"Who is he?" House said. Then, realizing he sounded a little agitated, he said, "Please tell me the name of this poor sap."

"I think I heard them say Kaufman? Dr. Mark Kaufman?"

House frowned. "Never heard of him."

"Heart surgeon. Triathlete. Philanthropist."

"You forgot to say masochist," House said.

Thirteen smiled knowingly.

"Anyway, your secret's safe with me, boss."

"I'm not your boss yet," House reminded her.

"Ouch," Thirteen said. Then, perhaps pushing her luck, she added, "Want me to get more intel about Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Kaufman for you?"

"No," House said, looking her squarely in the eye. "Dr. Cuddy's private life is of no concern to me."

#####

Later, Amber caught up with Thirteen at their new favorite picnic table.

They decided to exchange notes.

For her part, Amber had had a pretty productive morning.

"I went to talk to Dr. Cameron," she said.

"No shit," Thirteen said, impressed by Amber's initiative. She had to remind herself what a formidable competitor Amber was. "And what did she say?"

"She said that she used to have a schoolgirl crush on House, but it was unreciprocated."

"I knew it!" Thirteen said, gleefully.

Amber, who had been meting out her intelligence slowly, to maximize her victory, then added, "And then she told me they once kissed."

Thirteen paled.

"They what?"

"They kissed. On the lips. With tongue. The whole bit. It took place in House's office last year."

"Bullshit."

"It's true—although she admits it was just that one time. She said it was one of the best kisses of her life."

"Who initiated it?" Thirteen asked, skeptically.

"She didn't say."

"And if it was such a great kiss, why did it only happen one time? And why is she now with Dr. Chase?"

"She didn't say that either. She got a little cagey after that. But it was a pretty big disclosure." Amber smiled triumphantly. "And what about you? What was that little private meeting with House all about?"

"He wanted to make sure I didn't tell Dr. Cuddy about our flask-capades."

"That's because she's his boss and it was against hospital rules," Amber said.

"Right. But he was very specific about not telling her _what_ we said."

"Huh," Amber said.

"As in the part about Cuddy being a fucking knockout."

"Yeah, I got that."

"And that's when I dropped Stage 2 on him."

"Stage 2?"

Thirteen chuckled drily.

"This rumor I circulated that Cuddy is seeing this dude from Princeton General."

"What dude?"

"Just some doctor I found on the internet. He got auctioned off at the hospital's charity gala last month. A real hunky type. Bulging biceps. Full head of black hair. Total nightmare for House."

"If House—or Cuddy—finds out you circulated that rumor you are so fired."

Thirteen shot her a look. "How would they possibly find out?"

Amber shrugged. "No from me. I play fair," she said. "Do _you_?"

"Always," Thirteen replied.

"So what was House's reaction to this news?"

Thirteen sighed a bit.

"He pretended not to care. But I could tell it got to him."

"Ha!" Amber said.

"Ha what?" Thirteen said.

"Let's tally up the score here: House says Cameron completes him _and_ they once kissed. You've got 'fucking knockout' and"—she put on a fake frowny face—"actually, that's all you've got."

"I swear, he was upset. He was just playing it cool."

"I hope you're polishing off your resume," Amber said. "Because you're going to be back on the job market soon."

######

Later that day, Thirteen called Amber on her cell.

"I have an important update," she said.

"What's that?"

"I happened to be in House's office—okay, I was snooping—and guess what he had on his desk?"

"What?"

"A Princeton General Directory."

Amber tried to seem unfazed. "That's not exactly… surprising," she said. "The two hospitals consult with each other all the time."

"It was open to the Ks—as in Dr. Mark Kaufman."

"Very definitive," Amber said.

"You can't possibly think it's a coincidence," Thirteen said.

"All I'm saying is, I have an actual, bona-fide kiss. You have a…hospital directory. Try harder."

And she hung up.

Thirteen knew she was right. Amber was currently in the lead, which was infuriating because she knew House had the hots for Cuddy—and possibly much more. But there wasn't really much she could do, other than double down on Stage 2, so she told Nurse Jeffrey—the hospital's biggest gossip—that she'd heard through the grapevine that the sex between Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Kaufman was off-the-charts.

All she could do now was hope the news got back to House.

######

"Here's a riddle for you," Cuddy said. "What's the only thing worse than supervising Dr. House?"

House, who'd been sitting at his desk, with his feet up, googling Dr. Mark Kaufman, hastily clicked on his screen saver.

"What?" he said, taking his feet off the desk.

"Supervising 25 Dr. House wannabes," she said.

He chuckled. "That does sound disturbing."

"It's like a bad Hitchcock film."

"Come on, my minions aren't so bad."

"What part of setting a hospital room on fire, digging up a corpse, and breaking into private property don't you understand?"

"I'm kvelling."

"Get your candidates on a tighter leash, House," she said. Then she dropped the bomb: "Oh, and stop using them to write your Vicodin prescriptions."

House cringed a bit.

"You know about that, huh?" he said.

""Yes, and it's only committing—let me see—about _25 different HIPAA violations_."

"Okay, I'll stop. But you just made them 75 percent less valuable to me." He stretched his knuckles, mafia-style. "I'm overdue for a bulk firing anyway. I'll knock off 15 tonight."

"Good," she said, and she turned on her heels to go.

"Dr. Cuddy," he called after her.

She swung around, folded her arms, in a "what now?" kind of way.

He looked her up and down.

"You look nice today," he said.

She squinted at him.

"Thank you?" she said, cautiously.

"Radiant. Freshly plucked. One might even say, you're glowing."

She rolled her eyes.

"House, I'm not pregnant."

"Never said you were," he said.

"Okay?" she said, still not sure what he was driving at.

"Can you think of any other reason why you might be glowing?" he asked.

"Low-grade fever?" she offered.

He stared at her.

"So that's all you want to say?" he said. "There's nothing else you want to tell me?"

"House, spit it out. What's this all about?"

He looked at her with some dismay. "It's about…nothing. It's clearly none of my business."

"You're acting weird House. Weirder than usual."

"Just observing how nice you look," he said. "Is that a crime?"

"No, but you seem…mad at me for some reason!"

"I'm not mad."

"Could've fooled me."

She gave him a little sneer, which he reciprocated, and left his office.

######

Amber knew that Thirteen hadn't been lying about the directory on House's desk and she also knew that she needed to step up her game. Cameron had been surprisingly forthcoming earlier today—she was secretly eager to boast about her kiss with House and had so few people to share the story with—so Amber decided to go back to the well one more time.

She caught up with Cameron in the hallway.

"Dr. House can't stop talking about you," she said.

Cameron laughed.

"I have a hard time believing that."

"It's true. Like, nothing we fellowship candidates do is good enough. It's always, 'Cameron would've figured that out." Or, 'Cameron never gave up.' Or, 'Cameron had the balls to stand up to me.' "

Cameron stopped walking and regarded Amber skeptically.

"Really?"

"Really," Amber said. She felt badly about lying. But hey, Thirteen was starting false rumors. This was out-and-out war. "I know you said he never saw you as a woman, just a doe-eyed school girl, but I think something's changed. He clearly…admires you."

"Admires me?"

One thing Amber had learned in her life: People were surprisingly willing to believe you when you told them exactly what they wanted to hear.

"Totally. And more than that, I think he has the hots for you."

Cameron snorted—flattered, but still skeptical.

"Shut up," she said, although her voice suggested she meant the opposite.

"I'm just saying. He gets a little starry eyed when he talks about you."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess," Cameron said.

"Precisely."

Cameron got a faraway look on her face and then snapped out of it.

"Too bad I've moved on to the man of my dreams," she said.

" _Dr. Chase_?"

"Yeah," Cameron said, unconvincingly. "Who else?"

#####

But that night, buoyed by Amber's words, Cameron found herself dropping by House's office.

"How's the world's most ridiculous job search going?" she said, trying to keep her voice breezy.

"I've got a Cutthroat Bitch, a homunculus obsessed with boob jobs, and a nearly dead guy with no medical degree. Besides that, peachy."

"You didn't know how good you had it," she said.

He looked up, gave her a slightly weary smile.

"I guess you're right."

Emboldened, she said, "You wanna go grab a drink and talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"The good old days."

He furrowed his brow. "What, now?"

"Why not? You're not my boss anymore. We're just two colleagues. We're allowed to go share a drink."

He rubbed his chin.

"Can't. Busy."

She looked around the office. The DDx room was empty and dark. Before she'd arrived, House had clearly been playing video games on his computer.

"You don't look busy," she said.

"I get my best thinking done after hours," he said.

She folded her arms, stubbornly.

"I'm not still pining away for you, if that's what you think," she said.

"It's not what I think," he said, evenly.

"I just thought we could enter a new, more mature phase of our relationship."

"I agree."

"So…drinks then?"

He did that thing he did—where she felt like he could see right through her.

"Maybe some other time, Dr. Cameron," he said.

Her face got hot.

"Okay," she said, feeling foolish. Her vision of the two of them talking, drinking, confiding in each other, maybe more, had been pretty vivid. "I'll let you get back to all that deep thinking you were doing."

He nodded.

When she got to the doorway, he called after her: "Cameron, wait."

She, inhaled hopefully.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of some asshat named Dr. Mark Kaufman?"

####

The trajectory of gossip at PPTH had a very specific pattern. It originated, almost always, with Nurse Jeffrey, then made its way through the rest of the nurses, then to the cafeteria staff, the administrative staff, the candy stripers, and finally, to the doctors. Really good gossip had a nearly physical presence in the hospital. And Cuddy had a keen eye for noticing when the gossip was about her.

"Spill it," she said, cornering Nurse Jeffrey in the nurses' station.

"Spill what?"

"The gossip about me."

"There is no gossip about you."

"Every time I approach a group of nurses they giggle and suddenly stop talking. So spill it."

"I'm completely in the dark."

"Do you know what the penalty is for lying to the Dean of Medicine?"

He looked at her, sighed.

"If you _must_ know, people know about the man in your life," he said.

For a second, Cuddy blushed, thinking he meant House. Then she realized how ridiculous that was. There was nothing going on between her and Dr. House—not technically, at least.

"What man?" she said, cautiously.

"Dr. Mark Kaufman."

"Dr. _who_?"

"Your new beau, from Princeton General? Light of your life, fire of your loins…"

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

He peered at her.

"So you're not seeing some studly heart surgeon from Princeton General?"

"No!"

Nurse Jeffrey laughed.

"Oops," he said.

"Oops?"

"The gossip has gotten pretty…specific. Apparently you and Dr. Kaufman are so hot for each other, you can't keep your hands off each other. There's talk of quickies in hospital storage closets."

"What on earth?"

"Hey, I don't make the gossip, I just…masterfully disseminate it."

"Well, un-disseminate it! It's a bald-faced lie. I've never even met this Dr. Mark Kaufman."

Nurse Jeffrey shrugged.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "I'm only one man."

"Try like your job depended on it," she said.

And Nurse Jeffrey gulped.

After he was gone, Cuddy reflected on the news. People speculating about her personal life came with the territory of being a young, pretty Dean of Medicine, although she had never gotten used to it. She sighed…and then she remembered the previous night's conversation with House.

######

Thirteen noticed Dr. Cuddy hastily fix her hair and makeup, then poke her head into House's empty office, and then keep walking, purposefully, toward the lecture room.

Something about the sneaky smile playing on Dr. Cuddy's lips compelled Thirteen to follow her, although she hung back, not wanting to be spotted.

Cuddy found House alone in the auditorium, sitting on the desk.

"I'm not dating some guy named Dr. Mark Kaufman," she said, teasingly.

He had been lost in thought. Now he looked up.

"I know," he said.

"You know? Then why the third degree yesterday?"

"Yesterday, I didn't know."

"And you were jealous," she said.

"I wasn't!..." he started to protest, then realized there was no point in lying. "Okay, I was jealous."

"You're cute when you're jealous."

"Shut up."

"I have no idea how this crazy rumor started," Cuddy said, shaking her head.

"I think I do," he said. "It was Cuthroat Bitch and Thirteen."

"Who?"

"Two of my fellow candidates. Supermodel and uh, taller supermodel. They apparently have some sort of bet."

Cuddy wrinkled her nose.

"What kind of bet?"

"To determine whether I'm doodling 'House Hearts Cuddy' or 'House Hearts Cameron' in my notebook."

Cuddy laughed.

" _What_?"

"Yeah, they were grilling me a few nigh. . .uh, _afternoons_ ago, asking lots of questions about you and Cameron. Then this rumor starts about you and McDreamy. And last night Cameron came by my office, out of the blue, asking if I wanted to have drinks with her. They must've put her up to it. I finally put the whole thing together. Cutthroat Bitch is Team Cameron. And Thirteen is Team Cuddy."

"You had drinks with Cameron?" she said, despite herself.

He chuckled.

"Who's jealous now?" he asked.

"I'm not jealous," she said, somewhat defiantly. "But did you?"

"No, I did not have drinks—or anything else—with Dr. Cameron."

"Good," she said. Then she smiled. "And just to be clear, I did not have drinks—or anything else—with Dr. Kaufman, although I might want to look him up. He sounds intriguing."

"You minx!" House said.

And they both laughed.

Thirteen, who was far enough away that she could see them, but not quite make out what they were saying, leaned forward a bit. They were doing that chemistry thing. She could practically feel the heat from where she was hiding.

House folded his arms, looked at Cuddy. The way she was standing in the doorway was almost identical to the fantasy he'd had about her a few nights ago—and last night, too.

"Has anyone ever told you that when we talk, it's like we're the only two people in the room?" he said, musingly.

Cuddy looked around.

"We are the only two people in the room," she said.

"Thirteen said we had chemistry."

"She was trying to lead the witness."

"And yet…we do have chemistry," he said.

"Yes," she admitted. "We do."

House hopped off the desk, started walking toward her slowly, just like in his dream.

"House, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said, still approaching her.

Cuddy suddenly felt a strange flutter in her stomach. She knew why he was approaching her and she knew that she should've protested, but she didn't.

House ascended the last step, then moved toward her.

"Hey," he said, lifting her chin.

"Hey," she replied, meekly.

He leaned in, kissed her softly on the mouth.

"You taste good," he breathed.

She closed her eyes.

"House, we shouldn't…we're in public."

"Shhh," he said, taking a lock of her hair and putting it behind her ear. "No one comes here except my fellows and they're scattered all over the hospital."

He kissed her again and this time, she let him, parting her lips a bit to receive his tongue. Almost twenty years of anticipating this, plus the illicitness of doing it in plain sight at the hospital, added to her excitement. She felt weak in the knees.

Across the hospital, in the laboratory, Amber got a page: "Lecture Hall. Now," it read.

The last time she'd been paged, House had electrocuted himself with a knife and a socket. So she handed the test tube she was looking at to Big Love and sprinted out of the lab.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Gotta run!" she said, barreling down the hall.

She got to the lecture room pretty quickly and then was mortified by what she saw: House and Cuddy having a full on makeout session against the wall, practically mounting each other—still both fully dressed, but both so handsy and obviously worked up, it felt downright pornographic.

She stepped away, not wanting to be spotted, and feeling a bit too much like a pervert.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit_ , she thought as she walked away. Why had she made that idiotic bet?

Back in the lecture room, House was starting to fumble for his belt buckle when Cuddy finally came to her senses and disentangled herself.

"House, we can't."

"Yes, we can," he replied, diving for her again.

She put her hand on his chest to stop him.

"You're right. We can. But not here. Not now."

Still panting a bit, he stepped away from her.

"Then when?"

She smoothed her hair, buttoned the top button of her blouse and smiled adorably at him.

"My place? Tonight. 8 o clock?"

"Bless you, woman."

#####

"So you were the one who paged me, huh?" Amber said to Thirteen. They were sitting alone in the DDx room about an hour later.

"Considered taking a photograph, but this felt more dramatic."

"That was definitely…chemistry all right," Amber sighed.

"Told you."

"I didn't stick around. Did they actually have sex in the lecture room? Because…gross."

"No, Cuddy stopped it, much to my disappointment," Thirteen said, with a wink. "It was quite hilarious. They both looked they were going to explode. I think they made an appointment to fuck tonight at her place."

"Charming," Amber said, adding sadly, "So I guess you won the bet."

"It would appear so," Thirteen said, her eyes dancing.

"I'll tell House that I'm leaving the team tomorrow."

Thirteen contemplated her.

"That won't be necessary," she said.

"Huh? You expect me to just leave without telling him?"

"No, it won't be necessary because I don't expect you to leave at all."

Amber side-eyed her.

"Now you're confusing me."

"The way I see it, you're the best doctor among the candidates—besides me, of course. And to be the best, you've got to beat the best. I want you to stay."

"You did beat me. You won fair and square."

"That's just sex, something I know a little something about," she said, giving Amber a tiny leer. "I'm talking about medicine."

"You're an idiot," Amber said. "If I had won, you'd be packing your bags as we speak."

"I know," Thirteen said, taking in Amber's stunned face. "You're welcome."

THE END


End file.
